


time's running out

by stalkers



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Frottage, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Ribbons, Rimming, Spit As Lube, Spit Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-29 18:55:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19025899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stalkers/pseuds/stalkers
Summary: It's not that Yuta doesn't want to be bound by silk ribbons in Kim Doyoung's bed - if anything, that's all he wants.He would just prefer that Doyoung pay attention to him.





	time's running out

**Author's Note:**

> am I just a porn account now.

If not for the silk bounding his wrists together, Yuta would have given Doyoung an irritated middle finger out of impulse.

It’s unfortunate that the entire reason he’s annoyed is because he _can’t_ move his hands, therefore, he has nothing to show for his annoyance besides a mere huff and a pout. His vulnerability causes Doyoung to snicker and mumble, “Pathetic,” before he redirects his attention to the book in his lap. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

Of course, Yuta _did_ ask his boyfriend to tie his wrists together in the first place, so he can’t really argue with that... but it doesn’t make the temporary handicap any less unbearable. He sticks out his tongue in defeat at the younger and shuns him as best he can, turning on his side and looking at the wall, cheeks puffed out indignantly.

Nothing but the sound of Doyoung’s office chair creaking with every slight movement of his torso, alongside the occasional ruffling of paper as he flips a page in his textbook, fills the room. Yuta considers himself an energetic, loud person, who is not accustomed to, nor very fond of, silence. So, he figures he must break it himself.

“I didn’t ask you to tie me up just so you could sit there studying, you know.”

His tone is not malicious; playfully mean is how he’d rather word it. Teasing and bickering is a common occurrence between the two college students, whose friends were genuinely surprised they ever started dating, considering their initial relationship was that of a love-hate frenemies kind. Sometimes, opposites attract.

And in their case, opposites pine after one another for endless months in a tsundere fashion until one opposite’s wingman sets them up on a blind date without their permission, eventually leading to this... _binding_ situation. (If Yuta verbalized that pun, Doyoung would never touch his dick again, so he keeps quiet.)

“I’m not studying,” comes the other’s rather simple response. Yuta furrows his brows. Sometimes, it feels like his boyfriend is too clever with communication, carefully picking and choosing the right words and timing to sound vague or ominous, no matter the simplicity.

_If you’re so busy not studying, why don’t you come over here and fuck me?_ Yuta wants to say, but his enormous pride shoves the words away before they can embarrassingly slip past his lips. He settles with, “Then, what are you doing?” like the socially inept idiot he is.

A soft chuckle emits from the other, lips settling to a sly smirk as he raises an eyebrow at Yuta. “I’m watching.”

He almost follows up with, _Watching what?_ until it hits him.

Doyoung is _watching_ him. Oh.

He flushes under the attention, thoughts sifting through his mind without his consent, thoughts about Doyoung licking his lips and admiring his form and _getting off on him squirming desperately._

His legs cross over one another in a futile attempt to calm the raging heat between them.

Noticing this, his boyfriend laughs again, this time louder and more amused sounding. He stands, then, setting the book (which Yuta now realizes has been closed for a while, and he almost starts to wonder when he closed it - how long had he been bullshitting?) aside on the adjacent desk before striding carefully over to Yuta, eyeing him much like a predator glancing over its prey, assessing its weaknesses.

Yuta finds he quite likes feeling like prey, in that moment.

The mattress sinks beneath Doyoung’s weight as he presses a knee onto the bed, leaning over Yuta’s body to straddle his lap. His growing erection experiences extremely pleasurable pressure from where his boyfriend is sitting, and he can’t swallow the small noise that escapes his throat, tumbling out against his will and invoking a satisfied reaction from Doyoung.

“So you do like it,” he comments, more a rhetorical observation than a statement requiring the man in question’s approval, but he provides a reply nonetheless.

“Shut up.”

So much for denying his interest.

Doyoung has always been one to tease, Yuta has gathered from the ten handfuls of times they’ve _screwed_ around. Foreplay is his forte. Although, now, from the angle Yuta is observing his partner, the glint in his stare almost seems... impatient.

Once he feels the weight on his lap lift off swiftly and be replaced by deft hands, his suspicions in the other’s behavior are confirmed. He hardly has time for a victorious internal celebration, due to the fingers hooking under his waistband and pulling his sweatpants and boxers down in a singular motion. Yuta almost drops his jaw in shock at the mere _skill_ his boyfriend unknowingly possesses (and he silently wonders if that’s how straight women feel about men unhooking their bras within the span of seconds), but instead, his teeth scrape against his lower lip when a certain _familiar_ heat wraps itself around his length, and he _shudders_.

It isn’t often that Doyoung is the one performing blow jobs, as he and Yuta much prefer him using the latter’s mouth, but _on God_ he really wishes Doyoung would do this more often.

His lips are so plump and soft, and one of Yuta’s favorite things about his boyfriend’s mouth is how _talented_ he is with his tongue, both in conversation and the bedroom. The wet muscle lays flat against the head of his cock, swirling in a circular motion around it before he closes his mouth on the head and sucks on the salt-flavored pre-cum beading there.

For a person who establishes a rather dominant role during sex, Doyoung could fool Yuta into thinking of him as a submissive just by the way he flutters his eyelashes when glancing up into the older’s eyes. And fuck, that does wonders to his twisting abdomen, for whatever reason.

To be honest, he thinks most things Doyoung does during sex do wonders for his arousal, but he would rather die than admit to being that whipped.

Speaking of arousal, it seems to triple when the younger decides to sink lower onto his member, cheeks sucking in as he tightens his throat around his tip. He would be lying if he said Doyoung almost gagging on his girth didn’t turn him on, and Yuta is an honest man. It comes as no surprise when he loses control of his willpower and shamelessly bucks into the cavern between Doyoung’s two lips, but Doyoung is quick to respond, holding him down forcefully as to avoid choking. _His grip is so strong. ... God, that’s fucking hot._

By now, a pool of Doyoung’s spit has accumulated at the base of Yuta’s dick, with more drool dripping down the sides and substituting as lubrication for his ever-increasing pace. If this continues, Yuta thinks, he is _definitely_ going to come very soon, and he has no idea if Doyoung wants him to finish this early or not. (He has a short refractory period, so it doesn’t _really_ matter, in retrospect - Doyoung just prefers to edge him until orgasm.)

But he soon comes to realize that his hands are unavailable, and with his hips being held down, he has no choice but to let go -

And so he cries out shakily, body tensing as it projects him through his climax. His muscles twitch and spasm, cock falling from his boyfriend’s mouth as spurts of cum shoot out, staining his stomach and, he realizes only after, Doyoung’s chin. The skillful fingers around his cock stroke him with ease, almost guiding him until nothing but pathetic dribbles of barely-liquid drip from him.

“You’re so sensitive tonight,” Doyoung says mindlessly, face stoic and unreadable yet again (how does he switch personas so easily?) as he grabs a tissue to wipe the other down with. Yuta whimpers when the soft fabric brushes over his softening length, triggering a shiver up his spine. “I hope you know that won’t be the last one.”

He nods in understanding. It’s rare for them to have sex and only orgasm once, so it’s not a shocking sentiment - it’s just that hearing it be said out loud, that Doyoung will make him cum, _does things_ to Yuta.

Before he gets a chance to make any other passing comments, Doyoung leans down and connects their lips in a moist, silencing kiss that tastes like Yuta’s semen and sweat (essentially, _a lot of salt_ ). He moans into Doyoung’s mouth, maintaining his urge to caress his cheek while he kisses him back, because he’s _still_ not used to being unable to use his hands, even after an hour of being bound.

It’s not until Doyoung, in the haste of their passionate make-out session, strips himself of his clothing and presses his hard-on against Yuta’s thigh that Yuta even _notices_ the other’s arousal. And _boy_ , he sure is aroused.

(That wasn’t a sexy thought, Yuta internally chides himself.)

Yuta’s first instinct is to reach down, wrap his slender digits around his boyfriend’s cock, and give him the best handjob of his life - but the ache in his wrists reminds him that he simply can’t, and that causes him to furrow his brows in frustration. It’s his _duty_ to make him feel good, better than he made Yuta feel, and he _can’t_ , which makes Yuta think that might just be his own personal hell.

He has always considered himself a masochist.

As if anticipating his struggle, Doyoung raises a teasing eyebrow at the other with faux curiosity. “What’s wrong, hmm?” he asks, licking his lips and sliding his hand down his own flat stomach, making a show to purposefully torture Yuta. It’s working. “You want to touch my cock that badly?”

_Yes, I do, thank you very much_ , Yuta’s sarcastic internal voice answers for him. He scoffs and looks away, but Doyoung tugs his chin and forces him to make eye contact. Oh, that power dynamic makes Yuta whimper like a kicked puppy, but in the _best_ way.

“You can have it,” he starts, palms running over Yuta’s spread thighs and squeezing the muscles lightly, “if you promise to treat it nicely.” There’s a satisfied sparkle in Doyoung’s gaze; his satisfaction stems from the knowledge of the sheer _power_ he has over Yuta. Despite the older’s rebellious persona and playful protests, he is, essentially, Doyoung’s bitch.

He wouldn’t want it any other way.

Yuta inhales sharply once his boyfriend’s fingers tread delicately underneath his legs and begin massaging his ass, spreading his cheeks apart and squeezing them gently. He sees where this is going, and he definitely isn’t disapproving.

“Turn.”

It’s a simple demand, nothing but a single word that somehow still sounds _so_ powerful coming from the younger, and Yuta obliges immediately. His dignity means nothing to him, at this point; Doyoung has railed him far too many times for that to be a stable argument anymore. It’s so unlike Yuta to just throw away thoughts about his reputation and pride like so, but then again, nothing makes him feel more prideful in his relationship than taking his boyfriend’s cock in his ass.

He was too caught up in his thoughts to hear Doyoung repositioning himself, the sheets underneath him ruffling gently as he leans down to continue his previous actions. Fingers kneading the tense, yet soft, muscles of Yuta’s rear, he takes the opportunity to lean down and lick a stripe over his perineum, eliciting a desperate whine from the receiving man. Smirking subtly, he peppers kisses upward, ascending to eventually flatten his tongue between Yuta’s cheeks, flicking his tongue sinfully against his hole and it’s _so much_ , Yuta squirms and clenches his thighs together. He feels his cock leaking against the bedsheets (he doesn’t even remember getting hard again), sticky pre-cum dribbling onto the fabric beneath him, leaving behind nothing but a thin string connecting his cockhead to the sheets.

Doyoung doesn’t tease for much longer, sucking on his own fingers and drooling excessively on them before sliding two inside Yuta at once; they fuck pretty often, and the slide isn’t uncomfortable, after their most recent session on Doyoung’s desk. (He still hasn’t forgiven Yuta for shooting his load on his mechanical pencils.) Once his digits settle inside, he stretches them out gently, making a V with his fingers as he scissors his partner open with the utmost elegance, despite the nastiness of the situation. His fingers are skinny and long, extending far into Yuta’s hole, stretching him out with ease and even adding a third finger after only a few moments.

Meanwhile, the other is arching his back, face buried in the pillow beneath him as he thrusts his hips backwards against Doyoung’s hand. The latter uses his free hand to still his movements, mirroring his motion earlier, but less rough. Yuta’s mouth remain agape, drool leaking out of his lips and absorbing into the pillow as he pants and whimpers needily. “More,” he grumbles, words hardly coherent through the spit accumulated in his mouth and his loud panting, but Doyoung understands. He always does.

He responds with a firm thrust of his triad of fingers, pushing them deeper and deeper until -

_Ah._

Yuta literally feels his eyes roll back into his head, having to bite onto the pillow (he’ll flip it over to sleep on later) to gag himself before the entire dormitory hears him crying out.

Doyoung appears quite pleased with his reaction, slowly removing his fingers and spitting on his palm, stroking it along his length to moisten it a bit before he presses the tip against Yuta’s twitching hole. Yuta doesn’t even have time to whine about the emptiness inside him before he’s already being filled again, Doyoung’s thick cock pushing past his ring of muscles and entering him slowly; too slow for Yuta’s liking, the latter thinks as he pushes as best he can against the other. However, Doyoung’s hand still remains on his hip, maintaining his position and drawing out the feeling of him sliding inside of him. Yuta whines dejectedly, wanting nothing more than to just have Doyoung slam their hips together in a single, rough movement.

Unfortunately, Doyoung is a tease.

Once he’s buried to the hilt, he pauses momentarily - long enough to almost give Yuta the impression that he’ll finally get the fucking he deserves. _Almost._ He knows better than that. He’ll have no satisfaction unless he begs for it. Doyoung begins to pull out, only his tip remaining inside, when Yuta decides to let his stubbornness vanish. “Please, can you just -”

The younger snaps his hips forward, ramming into his prostate, and Yuta falls flat on the bed from the impact, face down against the pillow as he practically screams into it. He doesn’t have to look up to see Doyoung cocking an eyebrow mockingly and biting his lip. “Is that what you wanted?” he inquires, nearly a growl, as he repeats the same motion of pulling back until he has the velocity to roughly push forward again.

With each thrust, Yuta shakes and yelps in bliss, skin vibrating as energy thrums throughout his bloodstream. His cock is hot and firm between his legs, inevitably grinding against the sheets as Doyoung rails his hips into him.

He already feels his orgasm approaching, sweat dripping down his forehead and back as he turns his head to the side, hair wetly sticking to the pillow. “F-Fuck, I’m close,” he whines out, tugging at the silk around his wrists, to no avail, and giving up soon enough.

As if his words automatically cue Doyoung’s primal instincts, unleashing some sort of inner sex demon, he speeds up the pace and grips his hips ruthlessly as he slides back and forth and back again inside of him, creating a wet, loud slapping sound as his thighs collide with Yuta’s after every single thrust. The entire room smells like sex, and Yuta’s brain feels floaty, too much so to contemplate on how it’s his turn to wash their sweat and cum from the sheets, because it doesn’t matter - the only thing that matters right now is Doyoung, pounding electricity into his body and pulling stars down from the sky to swirl around Yuta’s head as he’s fucked into oblivion, or somewhere even more unknown than that.

And just like that, the stars are shot into the sky yet again, his electric veins exploding into nothingness as he reaches his orgasm and releases, cock spitting his semen across the bed (could it  _ get _ more dirty?) and his torso goes numb.

He shakes from the sheer overwhelming climax, lids closed over his eyes as he catches his breath. And Doyoung waits patiently for him to calm, he always does, before he gives a shallow few final thrusts and comes inside of him with a muffled groan, hips stilling suddenly.

Omitting the use of a condom wasn’t uncommon for the duo, as they both trusted each other immensely and regularly test for disease. Plus, it adds a new layer of intimacy that is, in their eyes, unachievable with unnecessary rubber separating them.

Exhaling deeply, Doyoung pulls out and leaves Yuta laying there in his own liquids, breathing through his mouth and wiping off the abundance of sweat gathered on his forehead. When the younger stands, he fumbles around for a moment before retrieving tissues from his desk and wiping himself and Yuta down.

Not before he takes a second to admire his cum dripping from Yuta’s hole first, though.

It takes him a moment to remember Yuta’s  _ situation _ , and he smirks when he sees him squirming desperately as he tries to slip out from the ribbons. He sighs and approaches him, carefully untying the slip knot he’d created and throwing the silk aside.

Yuta shakes it off while Doyoung finishes cleaning the both of them, before pulling the sheet off of the bed and tossing it at Yuta. “It’s your turn to clean this,” he remarks playfully. Yuta glares at the younger and pulls his clothes back on, bundling up the bed sheet and leaving to put it in the dirty laundry.

Upon returning, he finds Doyoung already laying back down in bed (without the sheets on it, because they can sacrifice it for  _ one _ nap), covers pulled over his chest.

“Aren’t you going to shower?” asks Yuta, striding over to the bed and plopping down next to his boyfriend, exhausted. He yawns.

Doyoung makes a small disgruntled noise, turning over to face the other. “Later,” he whines, pouting up at Yuta. “Nap with me first.”

“You’re going to get the bed all dirty, you sweaty whore.”

He frowns and glares at Yuta before turning back and flipping the older off. “Fine, then. Go sleep in Johnny’s dorm.”

“I’m just kidding,” he says as he slips beneath the blankets and spoons Doyoung. “Don’t be mad, you big baby.”

“You’re the baby.”

“Whatever, asshole.”

Despite the bickering, Yuta smiles to himself and curls against Doyoung sleepily, thinking about waking up and showering with him and, if his stamina will allow him to, possibly continuing their shenanigans in the shower.

He falls asleep feeling warm and fuzzy, embracing Doyoung like his life depends on it. (In a way, it kind of does.)

His final thought before succumbing to sleep is,  _ I’ll get revenge later _ , and he dreams of handcuffing Doyoung to a street sign.

**Author's Note:**

> send feedback on [my curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/scrpns) or dm [my twitter](https://twitter.com/tamakyos)


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